Blood Dog
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: Burt has just one secret, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep it from Kurt... until it backfires.  Expect the Unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

****A/N: So, this is part of the Expect The Unexpected series I'm working on, which is, frankly, exactly what it sounds like. As part of my everlasting quest to defy any and all possible cliches, something completely unfathomable occurs with one member of the Glee club in each fic of the series. The goal? To have each character put so far out of their league that they should be OUT of character, but still remain IN character. This is installment number twelve, but none of them are connected plot-wise, so there aren't any prequels you have to read for any of them. Some will be tragic, some scary, some mysterious, some humorous. Enough jabber - please enjoy!****

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><p><em>B<em>_lood Dog_

It was nearly midnight on a Friday when the manager of Lima's one and only bowling alley decided to close a little early and kick Finn, Puck, and Sam out as soon as they finished their last game of air hockey. "I say we go hit up the 7-11 for some beer," Puck said once the boys were outside.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, dude, I gotta get up early to take Stacy to swim practice."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Fine." He turned to Finn. "You in?"

Finn shuffled a little. "I dunno, man, are you sure you should be doing that kind of stuff? You could end up back in juvie." Puck only shrugged. "Anyways, I have to get up early too," Finn continued. "Saturdays I help Burt out in the shop."

"Whatever, dude." Puck pulled the keys to his truck out of his pocket. "Drinking alone is still drinking," he stated, as if what he'd just said was some profound revelation that people would be quoting for centuries. "You need a ride, Evans?"

Sam hopped up into the cab and bid Finn a good night; Puck only voiced a grunt of agreement before driving off. Finn didn't mind walking home - it was only a five minute drive from the bowling alley to his house. Maybe twenty minutes on foot, if he walked slowly.

As boring as Lima was during the day, Finn had always liked it at night. The empty streets, dark windows, and traffic lights signalling to no one always gave him a feeling of calm and made it easier for him to think. It had rained earlier in the evening and there was still a dampness in the air that clung to Finn's skin and clothes as he walked along beneath the streetlamps.

He was enjoying the night air so much that he almost didn't recognize Burt's Toyota parked at the curb. When the vehicle did catch his eye, though, Finn frowned in confusion, because at this hour the truck should have been parked in the driveway next to Kurt's Navigator. The building it was sitting in front of was a warehouse that, as far as Finn knew, hadn't been in use for at least the past decade. But tonight, a soft glowing light illuminated one of the front windows, and Finn's curiosity got the better of him.

He stepped off the sidewalk and went up to the window, trying to see through the dirty class. He could hear muffled voices coming from inside, heated slightly as if there was an argument brewing, but nothing was visible through the grim built up on the glass pane. Finn skirted around the side of the warehouse and found another window just as filthy, but with a chunk of glass missing as a result of a rock thrown by some bored local kid. Finn squinted through the hole, listening to the words that he could hear more clearly now.

"Look, just cough up the money and we can forget this little slip-up," said a balding man dressed in a trucker jacket. Finn frowned when he recognized Todd Ferguson, a frequent patron of the Hummels' tire shop. He'd come to Burt and Carole's wedding. Todd was speaking to a second man that Finn didn't know, who was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, illuminated only by a dusty lamp hanging from the high ceiling. There were two more unfamiliar men standing off to the side, glaring at Todd as if they were only waiting for a signal to beat the crap out of him. Burt was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, Benny," Todd continued, circling around the chair where the man called Benny was sitting. "You've got a little boy at home. We don't want to do anything drastic here."

Benny only smirked. "I didn't take the money," he said calmly. "But I know who did."

"Don't play games with us, Ben." That was Burt's voice, coming from a shadowed area to the right. He'd been standing just outside Finn's peripheral vision.

"No games," Ben promised. "You can check the bank records."

"See, that's the thing," Todd cut in, feigning confusion. "Harry's man checked the records three times - there's no trail. Now, how exactly would a chunk of cash that size just disappear?"

There was a growing feeling of dread in the pit of Finn's stomach. Anyone with a TV knew that interrogations in abandoned warehouses involving large sums of money were bad news and seldom ended well.

"You're a computer man, Ben," Todd was saying. "Would you be able to cover up the tracks of thirty-five grand like that? Theoretically speaking, of course."

"Sure, long as I had the right equipment. Which I don't."

"As far as we know, Benny boy," Todd grinned. "As far as we know."

Ben gave a scoff. "I heard tell that you're not too bad with calculations either, Todd."

Todd's grin dissolved into a chilling glare. "That supposed to mean something, Ben?" His hand was resting on his coat pocket, and Finn was pretty sure that he didn't want to see whatever was in it.

"No, sir," Ben smiled. "But maybe you should double-check your own account, just to be sure."

Todd's hand flicked up and there was a muffled _pop_, and the chair that Ben was sitting on keeled over, clattering against the cement floor. Ben remained sprawled where he was, a dark pool of blood growing beneath his head, and then there were two more _pop_s and the two silent goons in the back dropped before they had a chance to react. Finn's head spun for several seconds before he remembered to breath. His brain seemed to be stuck, and with it, his body. Despite the overpowering urge to _run away_, Finn's feet remained solidly attached to the gravel beneath his shoes.

"Jesus, Todd, what the hell was that?" Burt was yelling when the roaring in Finn's ears finally died down. His stepfather was storming forward, seeming not at all shocked by the fact that there were three fresh corpses on the floor. Finn's stomach twisted painfully when he saw the pistol equipped with a silencer in Burt's hand. Todd was holding an identical weapon. "This was just supposed to be a talk, dammit!" Burt shouted.

Todd shrugged, pocketing his gun. "Harry wasn't going to just let him keep stealing. He would've ended up in a closed casket either way."

Burt thrust a furious forefinger at Todd's face, the muscles in his jaw tense. "That isn't your decision to make," he snarled lowly. "You know Harry's rule as well as I do - if we take someone out, we do it in Cincinatti. The police are gonna be swarming this place by tomorrow night."

"Hey, you didn't have to shoot his guys," Todd countered.

"Bullshit, otherwise you and me would be on the floor along with Ben's sorry ass."

It was at that inopportune moment that Finn's cell phone chose to blast the designated ringtone for his mother, and his reflexes kicked in before his brain even processed that Burt had whipped his gun up to aim straight at him. Finn ducked out of sight and shut his phone off with shaking fingers, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Go around the front," he heard Burt say, and realized that he would have to make a run for it.

Finn honestly believed that he had never run faster than he did then, but only halfway across the warehouse's back lot, his shoe caught on a large rock and he crashed hard into the gravel. When he managed to pull himself back up, he found Todd panting from his sprint and aiming his gun directly at Finn's face. Todd's eyebrows shot up and then knitted together in surprise. He lowered the gun. "Finn?"

Finn's vocal chords were paralyzed, and he couldn't reply.

"Oh, Jesus," sighed Burt as he came up behind him. "Finn-"

"It's fine, Burt," Todd said. "Finn can keep a secret. Right, buddy?"

The hairs on Finn's neck prickled. Todd had called him buddy before, but this time it made Finn feel a little sick.

Burt squeezed his stepson's shoulder. "Don't worry about Finn," he said to Todd. "I'll take care of it."

"Good enough for me," Todd said, tucking his gun back into his pocket. "Well, good night, boys. I think I'll walk home." With that, he strode off towards the street, leaving Finn and Burt alone.

Several pregnant seconds passed before Finn mustered up the courage to say, "C-could you put that away?"

"Sorry," Burt said, shoving his gun into his coat's inside pocket and out of sight. He sighed, his hands on his hips. "You saw everything?"

"Yeah."

He sighed again. "Okay. Go get in the car. Let's go home."

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><p><strong>AN: So? What'd you think? Worth a review?**


	2. Chapter 2

_Blood Dog_

In real time, the drive from the warehouse back home took less than three minutes, but to Finn it felt like hours. His mind seemed to be racing and stuck at the same time - the image of Ben falling over with a bloody hole in the back of his skull was rapidly playing over and over in Finn's head like a scratched DVD. Again and again, he heard the tiny _pop_, sounding almost like an expertly formed spitball launched from a straw, and saw the spatter of blood shoot backwards onto Todd's coat and the back of Ben's head open up as if it was water that had been hit with a pebble.

He glanced over nervously at Burt, who was silently watching the road ahead as if he hadn't killed two people only a few minutes before. Finn could tell that his stepfather was evaluating his options and trying to decide how best to deal with what Finn had witnessed and the fact that Finn had witnessed it.

Finally, Burt pulled the truck into their driveway and shut the engine off, making no move to get out of the car. Finn remained still as well, wondering if Burt was going to try to explain. When he finally did speak, though, it was not an explanation or even a vague attempt at one.

"Kurt doesn't know anything about this. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him." His tone made it clear that it wasn't a request, and Finn was suddenly keenly aware of the gun concealed beneath Burt's jacket.

"What about my mom?" Finn asked after a moment of tense silence. "Does she know?"

"She knows I do some side work, and she knows not to ask questions."

He felt a fresh wave of nausea at how casually Burt had referred to murder as 'side work', as if he was running a diner or working the night shift at the Customer Service counter of Land's End.

"Go on inside," Burt said with a sigh. "I've got some clean-up to do."

Finn quickly climbed out of the cab and watched as Burt's truck pulled back into the road and drove back in the direction of the warehouse. He glanced at Kurt's Navigator, parked peacefully to the side of the driveway, and then hurried inside, trying not to think about how Burt had managed to afford it.

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><p>Finn didn't sleep at all that night, and the next day passed at a glacial pace. Burt spoke to him only once, to tell him that he didn't need to help out in the shop today; Kurt hadn't worked there in awhile anyway. Finn nodded wordlessly in response, grateful that he wouldn't have to spend the day in the same room as Burt. Kurt seemed to pick up on the fact that something was going on between his father and stepbrother, and he cast Finn a worried and bewildered look, but said nothing. Carole sensed it too, but tried not to make a show of asking Finn what was going on, although Finn somehow got the feeling that she already knew. Maybe Burt had told her.<p>

During the morning, he tried to empty his mind by holing up in his room with his video games, but all he could think about was how the bullets hitting the opponents' virtual bodies were really unrealistic and then he felt sick all over again. Finally, his mother sent him out to mow the lawn and the ear-splitting drone of the mower's engine let him eventually purge the repetitive blood spatters from his head. When Burt and Kurt returned from the car shop that evening, Finn retreated back into his room to do his homework, or at least, that was what he told his mother. He knew perfectly well, and he thought his mother did too, that he only wanted to avoid his stepfather.

Sunday passed much the same way, with Finn remaining withdrawn and restless and Burt speaking to him only when absolutely necessary. Since the shop was closed on Sundays, Burt was home the entire day, which meant that Finn stayed in his room for the same amount of time, not wanting to look at Burt's face and then wonder just what the 'clean-up' Burt had referred to entailed. Every time the phone rang or a noise sounded vaguely like a knock at the door, Finn would flinch, sure that it was the police come to drag Burt away to jail. And honestly, he wondered if that wouldn't have been best. But Burt must have done a good job with said 'clean-up', because there was not even a single police car driving through their neighborhood, even on their daily patrol.

On Monday, Burt drove Finn and Kurt to school, since Kurt's car needed an oil change. Finn sat in the back with his legs drawn up almost to his chest in order for him to fit in the tiny back seat, and tried not to listen to the casual conversation that his step-father and -brother were carrying on up front. He heard Kurt snark something about Mellencamp, and then a laugh from Burt, and he couldn't figure out how the _hell_ Burt could be acting so normal. When they got to school, Kurt got out first and was rushing off as the bell for first period rung, but Burt held Finn back.

"Finn, I need to know that what you saw isn't going to change things."

Finn frowned at him. "Um... what do you mean?"

"I mean that you need to start at least pretending that you can stand to be around me. I know that what you saw isn't the easiest thing to take in or process, but if you keep jumping at every noise and going out of your way to avoid me, then Kurt will eventually find out, and I'm not willing to let that happen."

Finn looked down and then climbed out of the truck, refusing to answer either one way or the other.

He was fidgety and tense for the rest of the school day. "What got stuck up your ass?" Puck asked him during Spanish. In the afternoon, just before Glee rehearsal, Kurt grabbed his arm in the hallway and pulled him off to the side.

"Okay, what's going on with you and my dad?"

Finn shuffled on the linoleum, not meeting Kurt's eye. "Nothing."

"Finn, you and my father have not said a word to each other all weekend. And there was a basketball game on."

Finn frowned. He didn't remember hearing anything about any basketball game on TV over the weekend, but maybe that was Kurt's point. "Look, it's... nothing you need to be worried about. Okay?"

Kurt pursed his lips and Finn knew he hadn't heard the end of it. "Is this anything like what happened last year?"

Finn winced. He would have been more than happy to forget the incident in the basement, and he'd have thought that Kurt would be too. He suddenly felt an urge to tell Kurt the truth, so that he wouldn't think that Finn was reverting to homophobia again, but then he remembered how quickly and ferociously Burt had come to Kurt's defense, and he honestly was not sure how far Burt was willing to go to protect his son.

"No," he promised. "Don't worry. Burt and I are working it out."

Kurt gave him a doubtful look, but nodded in acceptance and then walked alongside him to the choir room.

And Finn probably would have tried to extend the conversation if he'd known that this would be the last time he and Kurt would ever speak, but as it was, he remained awkwardly quiet.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The last two chapters, I completely forgot to acknowledge that this story is based on the 2002 film _Road To Perdition_ with Tom Hanks, Paul Newman, Stanley Tucci, and Jude Law. Please, please, please, as soon as you have the chance, rent it, watch it, and marvel at the miracles of modern cinematography. Also, thanks to _salparadise_ for bringing the absence of the acknowledgement to my attention :)**

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><p><em>Blood Dog<em>

Burt had felt particularly uneasy all through Monday, more so than the previous few days. He tried to brush it off as nothing more than the worry that he'd been consumed with since Todd had found Finn in the back lot of the warehouse, but couldn't help sensing that there was now something else that was an even larger cause for concern.

"You okay, Burt?" his assistant at the tire shop had asked around five o'clock when he absentmindedly poured antifreeze into a car's compartment for windshield wiper fluid.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered as he corrected his mistake. "I think I'm gonna take off a little early, though. Can you hold down the fort?" A half hour later, Burt was driving across town, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel.

Harry Ferguson lived in a fairly nice house on the far outskirts of Lima, almost far enough for the location to be considered in the next town over. He was about ten years older than Burt, with more creases in his face and a lot more hair. When Burt guided his truck to a stop in front of the house, Harry was sitting on the bend on the front porch, halfway through a pack of Marlboros.

"We need to talk," said Burt.

Harry nodded and flicked his cigarette butt onto the lawn. "Yeah, I guess we do." He stood up, blowing out his last inhalation of smoke and shaking his head. "Doesn't matter that Marcie's been dead for two years - I still can't smoke in the house without hearing her nagging." He chuckled and opened the front door, holding it open for Burt to come in after him.

"Listen," Harry said once they were inside. "What happened on Friday is being taken care of. You have my word on that."

Burt shook his head. "He's unstable, Harry. You can't keep him mixed up in this."

"What, you want me to kick my own brother to the curb?"

"Todd's made it pretty clear that he's not happy just doing grunt work," Burt said, crossing his arms. "In a few months, that cancer is gonna kill you, and then there'll be only two options - either Todd takes your place, which we _all_ know would be suicidal, or someone - maybe even me - is going to kill him. I know it, you know it, and so does every single guy working for you. You have to take him off the payroll, _now_."

During Burt's speech, Harry said nothing and listened with a calmly reserved expression. A few moments passed after Burt was finished speaking, and then Harry sighed and responded with, "Burt, I respect you. You've been working for me for a long time, and I appreciate you staying on after what happened with your wife."

Burt winced at that, but remained quiet.

"But you're underestimating me. I am not an idiot. My brother, on the other hand, is a first-class moron, and if we weren't related I'd have had him taken out ten years ago. Still, he _is_ my brother, and since I'm not an idiot I know that I'm the only thing standing between him and a nine-millimeter cartridge to the brain. Even if I take him off the payroll now, he's botched too many jobs in the past to be able to keep himself out of a body bag."

"If he ends up dead no matter what you do, then what does it matter if it's now or later?"

Harry placed his hands against the kitchen table and looked Burt in the eye. "I will not attend my brother's funeral." A muscle in his jaw twitched, and then he straightened up again. "Look, I'm dealing with Todd, okay? You just worry about Finn."

"I'm not worried about Finn," Burt said. "Well, I am, but Finn I can handle."

"I'll say it again - I'm dealing with Todd. He won't do anything out of line."

Burt quirked an eyebrow. "I really don't think that's something you can promise."

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><p>After rehearsal had let out that Monday, Finn, searching for any excuse to not go home, asked Mike to stay back and help him learn the choreography that the rest of the group had already absorbed. Mike had looked a little confused by the request, but considering the fact that Finn had only accepted dance lessons in the past after ridiculous amounts of nagging from Rachel andor Kurt, Finn supposed that Mike's surprise wasn't all that unwarranted. Still, Mike said sure, and they stayed in the choir room for nearly two hours, but Mike could tell that Finn's head was elsewhere and eventually tried to put him out of his misery by saying, "Okay, I think you got enough down for today." This was a blatant lie in the fact that Finn really hadn't gotten anything down whatsoever, and what Mike thought was a favor only served to make Finn blanch and hesitantly ask if they could work a little longer.

Mike's eyebrows quirked. "It's like six o'clock and we're still at school," he said. "I've got to go home at some point, dude."

Finn nodded, shuffling nervously and digging his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do too."

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

"Do, uh... do you mind giving me a lift home?"

Mike dropped Finn off just as it was closing in on six thirty, and Finn's stomach was beginning to rumble. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried into the house, hoping his mom was close to putting dinner on the table. As the front door shut behind him, Finn found the kitchen heavy with the smell of a meatloaf in the oven and he set his bag on the counter, his stomach growling loudly. "Mom, I'm home," he called.

Rather than his mother's voice, he was answered with the sound of the screen door at the back of the house creaking shut.

"Hello?"

Movement at the corner of his eye made him glance out the front window just in time to see a man, his shoulders hunched against a nonexistent wind, stepping off of the lawn and rushing down the sidewalk and out of sight.

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><p>As Burt walked through his front door, the hairs on his arms and neck immediately stood on end. The kitchen was clogged with the pungent smell of a burning meatloaf, and despite the fact that it was well into May, the house somehow felt colder than it ever did during the winter. His brows knitted together in confusion, Burt turned off the stove and called out for Carole. "Honey, you home?" When there was no reply, he called her name again and walked down the corridor towards the living room.<p>

He stopped short when he found Finn sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes staring blankly at the carpeting under his feet. Burt was about to ask Finn what was wrong, but his gaze fell on a dark stain seeping into the rug from the next to the couch, and his heart clenched, sending an excruciating shock of pain down his spine and into his stomach. He could see Carole's hand hanging limply off the side of the couch, and he spun on his heel and took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the first room on the right.

Kurt was slumped over his vanity table, a pool of blood turning his history textbook dark red. The bullet had passed straight through his skull from behind and pierced the mirror, leaving nothing but a cracked reflection of Kurt's wide eyes and sticky hair.

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><p><strong>AN: Reviews make for excellent birthday presents, just so you know.**


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